Cheating

Her husband only had eyes for the other woman’s cleavage. Marina and I looked at each other from the far end of the living room and, without saying a word, we’d already said everything.

It began as a game of words in bed. It ended with me getting into another man’s car while my husband waited in the casino, knowing everything.

I came to that dinner expecting a glass of wine and an escape to the countryside afterward. I ended up kneeling in front of a stranger while my lover watched.

I had three tubes of aloe vera and not a centimeter of unburned skin when my flatmate’s boyfriend came in with her keys and found me naked on the sofa.

I opened the door wearing a thin dress and nothing underneath. The boy delivering my flowers had no idea the bouquet was the least of it that hot afternoon.

That night we agreed to do something different. I’d cook, open the door, and watch her enjoy another man. What I didn’t imagine was how much I’d enjoy obeying.

She expected shouting, perhaps the end of everything. Instead, he offered her a glass of wine and asked her to tell him everything, without leaving out a single detail.

For months he had been sleeping beside a woman who prayed instead of touching him. Then he walked into the veterinarian’s office, and she locked the door.

They had never met in person, only photos and messages charged with desire. But she was coming to his city, and this time fantasy threatened to become real.

I went into the clinic with my back wrecked from work. I left with hard nipples, overwhelming desire, and an address saved in my phone.

Her husband hadn’t touched her in months. That night at the nightclub, I saw a small red ribbon hanging from her blouse and understood exactly what it meant.

That night I knelt while another man took my wife on the table. He thought he was the one in control; neither of them suspected what was really happening between us.

She came home with news that would change the rules between us: a brand wanted to photograph her in lingerie, and the idea turned her on far more than I expected.

I was waiting with my suitcases packed to leave him. But when he started telling me what happened with her, I discovered my body was reacting differently than my pride.

For months I’d whispered the same fantasy in her ear. That afternoon, in a deserted cove, I stopped imagining it and watched it come true in front of me.

A small-town, religious married woman never imagined the secret photos my husband kept would end up all over the region.

I finished getting dressed on the edge of that bed and understood there was no turning back: the dutiful wife was dead, and I wanted more, much more.

I had just enough budget, and my boyfriend offered me his aunt’s house. What I didn’t know was that his cousin would turn that week into something I never told him about.

Her husband came home exhausted and fell asleep in front of the television. Her boss, on the other hand, looked at her as though he knew exactly what she imagined in the shower.

“Your cooperation is the only currency you have,” the message said. Mariana shut off the phone knowing she would obey again, just as she had before.